


Wherein they're both RAF officers

by rotrude



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Fluff, M/M, Romance, Snippets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-22
Updated: 2012-04-22
Packaged: 2017-11-04 02:24:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/388648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rotrude/pseuds/rotrude
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for a8c-sock's Merlin/Arthur royal wedding comment fic fest. Or Prince Arthur proposes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wherein they're both RAF officers

One of the engines is shot and the Typhoon loses lift, stubbornly regains altitude after meeting a strong downward current, and then, wobbling like a wounded bird, it begins to spiral downwards again.

Arthur prays; mutters, “Come on, come on, come on. Force a landing.”

The typhoon effects two sideways gyrations; it looks as though it's plummeting; it looks as though it won't make the landing deck. Then it steadies some, though it's clear that this moment of grace can't last long.

Over the din of the deck, the safety officers are shouting instructions into their radios; some of them are climbing onto the aircraft carrier's platform and signal paddles are lit.

Merlin's jet loses elevation some more, there's a burst of flame and it's clear Merlin's attempting to maintain control of his aircraft; the Typhoon approaches the deck frightfully rapidly even though the angle isn't right, more of a rollercoaster plunge than anything else.

“He's coming too low,” says Lieutenant du Lac.

“I know,” says Arthur. “God, I know.”

Yet he can only watch as Merlin's Typhoon attempts touching down.

“He'll have to ditch in the sea.”

“He can't survive that!” bellows Arthur.

Whatever Arthur may wish, the fighter jet is still too low on the first wire, but Merlin has steered clear of crashing into the ship's steel stern. He doesn't make the first arresting cable nor the second.

“There's another two, Merlin. Two more,” Arthur says to no one in particular, too low to be heard.

As per protocol, Merlin pushes the one engine he's got left to full power while missing the third cable and Arthur wants to close his eyes and not see this. Yet he his eyes are glued to the scene.

The officers working on the platform dive out of the way, thinking an explosion imminent. After all there's no more runway.

Merlin manages to hitch his plane's tail-hook on the last wire: the fourth cable holds. The Typhoon has come to a stop. But it's a ramp strike and Merlin's sheared off the engine. Fire has enveloped the plane's tail and it's licking at the cockpit.

Medics and crewmen dash towards the aircraft; like them, Arthur rushes towards it too, even though Lancelot's shouting, “Your highness, no! Your Highness! Sir!”

Before Arthur gets there, the glass cockpit springs open and Merlin topples out of it on shaky legs, pulling off his mask and walking into the arms of a doctor. He totters, sways, but he's smiling. The doctor pronounces him to be fine. 

And then Arthur's there and he crashes into Merlin, tugging him close, running his hands over him to verify that he is, indeed, fine, needing confirmation from his own senses. And fuck the doctors.

“Are you ok?” He's breathing hard, blinking tears away. “Merlin, dear God, are you okay?”

Merlin claps him on the shoulder twice, sobs, nearly folds over, but he's smiling. “Yeah,” he murmurs into Arthur's ear. “Adrenalin high.”

“Merlin, I–”

“All fine, Squadron Leader,” Merlin quips. “Still alive and kicking.”

But it's not that; it's not that. Arthur can see that Merlin's unharmed, but what nearly happened made him ill. He knows he's got to calm down, that everybody's looking at him and he's the fucking prince of Wales, and this'll leak, but he doesn't particularly care because today he nearly watched Merlin die. And he can't do that – stand by and watch – and though his actions won't stop anything from happening, he's done hesitating.

“Hey, Arthur.” Merlin palms his shoulder.

Arthur smiles, sniffs so he can keep in control of his facial features, goes on one knee and asks, “Merlin, will you marry me?”

Crewmen and officers gape even though most of them are too busy dousing the fire that's eating at the Typhoon's engine.

“This... Is this a joke, Arthur?”

“No,” says Arthur, looking up at him. “No.”

“If that's because of today. You know landings are tricky and... I'm okay. Not gonna happen again.”

“Merlin, marry me. It's just... It's not because of the accident.”

“I don't want a title,” says Merlin then.

“No title,” promises Arthur.

“And I get to keep my job.”

“Of course. It's a time-honoured one in the Royal Family.”

“Well, then– then 'yes'. Yes, Arthur.”

Cheers are heard on deck.

The End.


End file.
